Archive

You’re Never Really Alone

posted 15th October 2009    Written by: Marisa    CATEGORY: All Posts, Molly, Quarterlife Crisis

Marisa ScooterI find it difficult to accept help when I know I can accomplish the task on my own.  Any task really.  Well, most things let’s say, but two weeks ago I was confronted with the fact that I really do need help in certain situations.

During one of the most uncoordinated moments in my life, I fractured my foot. It was all so silly and I couldn’t believe that my klutzy self could even be capable of self harm like that, but I did it.  I fractured the fifth metatarsal bone in my left foot and it hurt.

I limped home, hoping it wasn’t too serious, and after trying to sleep during a fitful, restless and painful night, realized something was wrong.  I couldn’t put weight on it and I had trouble getting from my bed to the bathroom and around my apartment.

My cat Sophie watched in amusement (one can only assume) as I tried to hop around at 3 a.m. and not break my other foot.  I was faced with some choices: do I hop the four blocks to the overpriced and unaffordable ER or do I wait for the early morning light to taxi it to a clinic and wait for hours upon hours?  I had a hard time deciding what to do since the pain was starting to make me sweat and having never broken or fractured anything in my life, I panicked a little bit.

So of course, I called my mom.

It’s comforting to know that I can call her at any time, day or night, no matter the issue.  That’s what it’s like when you have an awesome (all be it sometimes overprotective who offered to fly the next day) mother.  I sat on the hardwood floors of my apartment, in pain, in my jammies and with a cat that either looked very concerned or very hungry.  And after talking to my mom, who helped me to be logical at an illogical time during the night/day, I couldn’t help but still feel nervous and scared in my dark apartment.

I was alone. There was no one there to hold my hand, hug me and tell me things would be better, soothing the pain.  I didn’t like the feeling of having just my cat sit there, watching me with inquisitive eyes, wondering if I’m going to get up and feed her or just sit there like a log.

I started to feel like Miranda in that one episode of Sex in the City where she choked on her Chinese food and became scared of dying alone and/or being eaten alive by her cat.  I hate to admit it, but I went there. I wondered if Sophie would one day find me tasty if I were to ever be incapacitated and she, out of cat food.

For Miranda in that episode, having no boyfriend or significant other to rely on, friends were her support and answer.  As soon as I was able to control the ridiculous, but plausible concern of being eaten alive by my cat, I called the ever reliable Katie and Kyle at a decent hour.

Kyle picked me up, helped carry me to and out of his car and dropped me off at a ZoomCare Clinic.  Then Katie took me to Safeway once I was on crutches and helped with some grocery shopping.  Even my busy touring friend Anna visited me every day until I could walk, and we celebrated with a dance party at Holocene where I was able to dance and adore the amazing Esser.

This is what I learned: I am alone, yes, but self-reliant and not without help when in dire need. Sure, I can get a little crazy at times-I have vowed to have a never-ending supply of dry cat food in my pantry-but still, I have people who support me and I in turn, support them.

It works.  And until I find someone to be there at my side to soothe the pain at 4 a.m. in the morning, I can do it alone most of the time, especially with wonderful friends.

And a full, over-fed cat.

marisa-bio1

divider

« Previous Page